Kill 'Em All, Let God Sort 'Em Out
by ltjvt1026
Summary: Follow up to my story "Like a Rock".This is an Action Fic. There are no pairings. There will be blood. My take on how Gibbs gets Ziva out of Somalia. With some help from Billy Goat Crawford and friends. Rating this one T for violence and language
1. Warning Order

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I do own William "Billy Goat" Crawford, Shawn "Pete" Peters, Diego "Doc" Valle and Matt "Matt the Knife" Brown, OC's all. They sprang from my brain fully formed. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is a total accident.**

**Author's Notes:** Several people wanted a follow-up to "Like a Rock". This is it.

I use some terms in this chapter that bear explaining:

**The Company**- Spook talk for the CIA

**Stop & robs- **cop talk for convenience stores

**Throwaways**- those cheap cell phones you buy in a stop & rob

**Casvac**- **cas**ualty e**vac**uation

_Bill (William) Danforth_ appeared in the season three episode _Family Secret_. Gibbs fakes evidence so a friend of Danforth's deceased son can stay in the Marine Corps.

"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf"- **George Orwell**

**Gibbs' house, Saturday 0200 hrs**

Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs stopped halfway between his basement and front door. He had just finished talking to his old Sergeant Major, Matthew Brown. Brown, who Gibbs thought may be working for the Company had found Ziva.

Maybe.

The info sounded good, but Brown was going to dig a little deeper. Gibbs was supposed to call him back in two hours.

Gibbs forced himself to sit, and stared at the ceiling for about forty five minutes.

In that time plans were made, examined and discarded. Until one remained. It was only a framework but it sounded workable. He stood and walked into his kitchen; picking up the phone and dialing a number from memory. After a half a dozen rings there was a fumbling noise.

"Somebody had better be dead, Gibbs" said a voice on the other end of the line.

The voice of Senior Special Agent William "Billy Goat Crawford.

"Not currently, Goat, but that could change in time" said Gibbs.

"So….." said Crawford.

"I found her, Billy" said Gibbs.

Across town Billy Crawford abruptly sat up in bed. Billy knew exactly who Gibbs referred to.

Ziva David, formerly Mossad Liaison Officer to NCIS. Part of Gibbs' team.

"Need to talk to you" said Gibbs.

"It's 0250, Gibbs" said Crawford.

"Is that a problem?" said Jethro.

"Well, yes…" looking at the woman sleeping next to him. "Ah, no, I mean…ah hell, I'll be over in about twenty five" said Billy.

Gibbs smiled.

"Stop off and buy at least four throwaways and calling cards" said Gibbs. "I'll see you in twenty five."

The line went dead.

Billy Crawford levered himself out of bed. Six feet tall with black hair and sky blue eyes, Crawford, a former SEAL Team 3 member was used to being awoken at odd hours. Not so his bedmate.

"Where the hell are you going Crawford, its 3am" she said.

"Sorry, baby. Work."

"You're on vacation, Billy" the woman said patiently.

"A Federal Agent is always on duty" Billy said virtuously. "I'll only be a little while."

The woman snorted. "Right, the last time you said that, I didn't see you for a week and you came back with a bullet hole in your thigh."

"But I came back, didn't I?"

"Go on," the woman said with a sigh "Get outta here."

So, he did.

**Gibbs' house, Saturday, 0330 hrs**

Billy walked through Gibbs' front door, and followed the noises into the kitchen.

"Getting domestic in your old age, Gibbs?" said Billy.

"Figured the least I could do is make breakfast" said Gibbs. "You get the phones?"

Billy held up a plastic bag. "Four phones, four different 'stop & robs', cards the same way."

"Good" said Gibbs. "Billy, we're going to have to do this thing off the books."

Crawford raised an eyebrow.

Gibbs continued, "I don't trust Vance as far as I could throw him. I trust Daddy David even less. SecNav has a stake in this too. So it's gonna have to be off the books."

Crawford turned pensive as he considered what that meant. 'Off the books' meant unsanctioned, on their own.

"How good's your intel?" asked Billy.

"My old Sergeant Major from _Desert Storm_, Matt Brown gave it to me."

The Goat smiled, "Ol' 'Matt the Knife'?"

Gibbs sighed, "He hates that nickname."

"Then he shouldn't have stabbed that pimp in Naples with his own switchblade." replied Billy.

"Are you in?" said Gibbs.

"I was in the moment you called me, Jeth" said Crawford. "But it's gonna take more than you and me. We're going to need a corpsman and at least one more shooter."

"Got anybody in mind?" asked Gibbs.

"You bet" said Billy. "But let's eat and get a little sleep and I'll make some calls at a decent hour."

**Gibbs ' living room, Saturday, 1020 hrs**

Shawn 'Pete' Peters was the next man through the door. He was 6' 4", lanky, with light brown hair and sea green eyes. He shook hands with Crawford and turned to Gibbs.

"Shawn Peters, my teammates call me Pete."

"Jethro Gibbs. My friends call me Gibbs."

A quizzical look appeared on Pete's face.

"Marine Sniper, right?", "Panama and Columbia?" asked Pete.

"Yeah and….."

"You're 'El Fantasma'" Gibbs started. Nobody had called him 'The Ghost' in a long, long time.

"The beaners were scared to death of this guy, Goat" said Pete. "Still good in the woods, Gibbs?"

"I do Ok" said Gibbs.

"Cool". Peters looked at Crawford. "What's the job?"

Billy Crawford ran the whole thing down for him.

"So you think 'Matt the Knife' will go for the whole 'we rescue David and you get the Al Qaeda cell leader as a bonus' deal?" asked Peters.

"That's how I'm gonna sell it" said Gibbs. "It's all gonna depend on how high up the food chain the guy is."

"So, Brown's people put up the weapons, etc and we get Ms. David out _how_?"

"I've got that covered, if we get the go ahead" said Gibbs.

"I'm in" said Shawn Peters.

Diego "Doc" Valle arrived twenty minutes later. At 5' 8" and stocky with black hair and deep brown eyes he was the polar opposite of Pete.

His reaction was the same though. As soon as he heard the job he opted in.

"I need a pad and pen so I can start to make up a medical equipment list" said Doc. Crawford handed him both and Valle sat and started to write.

Gibbs took a throwaway phone off the coffee table.

"I've got two calls to make, one to Brown and the other to the casvac provider" said Jethro.

"Pete and I will work on the equipment list," Crawford said "If he bites tell him we'll call him back with it."

" 'Kay" said Gibbs. He was going to talk to Bill Danforth first. He wanted Ziva's ride out confirmed before anything else. Gibbs walked into the kitchen to make his calls.

**Gibbs basement, Monday, 0040 hrs**

Gibbs dusted off his hands and headed up the stairs. Later this morning he would put in his request for two weeks vacation. Vance would have a hard time turning him down. Human Resources were always sending both of them memos that Gibbs was not using up his accumulated vacation time.

He had called Mike Franks. Told him he was coming down to do some fishing. That and some repairs to Mike's house. Mike was surprised, but pleased.

The weekend had been a blur of planning and logistics. Matt Brown had gone for the deal. It turned out that the leader of the Al Qaeda cell that had Ziva was Qadir ibn Hassan. Hassan was the number four guy in AQ's Horn of Africa organization. Brown's people wanted ibn Hassan.

So the rescue was a go. Equipment lists had been submitted. A rendezvous at the Novotel Paris Charles De Gaulle was arranged for the upcoming Wednesday. Brown would be providing a briefing and laying out the next leg of the mission.

Gibbs had removed a set of false papers he had used in Europe from their hiding place in the attic. He would fly to France from Mexico.

The rest of the team had scattered. Crawford to go back to his place to make peace with his girlfriend. Peters to get a head start on getting to France. Valle to say goodbye to his wife.

They would all meet again at the airport hotel in Paris. Then, move to the staging area near Somalia.

Gibbs showered and lay down; suddenly feeling very tired. He allowed his mind to wander.

Paris

The first time since ninety-nine

**A/N: **elflordsmistress took a look at this story for me and gave me sage advice. Being an FNG and male, some I followed, some I didn't. Any screw ups are mine. I hope you will read and review.


	2. Insertion

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. It still applies**

**Author's Note: **Though I am not Irish, Danny Boy and the Minstrel Boy are etched in my consciousness forever. I've been to far too many police funerals. A good number of them, whether the cop was Irish or not, featured these two songs. The task at hand in the story seemed to lend itself to the song. So bros, this one's for you.

**Technical Notes: **There are more terms I'll be using in this chapter that need explaining:

**RPD**- Russian made light machinegun

**MP5SD-** Suppressed version of the H&K MP5. The SEAL's best friend on quiet missions.

**AKM-** The modernized version of the AK47. Weapon of choice for terrorists everywhere.

**RPG-7**- Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher.

"**Technical"-** A small pickup truck(think Toyota) mounting a 12.7mm Heavy Machine Gun.

**RHIB-** Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat. Approximately 13 to 28 feet long. Used by SEAL's to insert over the beach.

"The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone. In the ranks of death you will find him; His father's sword he hath girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him"- **Thomas Moore**

**Air France Flight, Mexico City to Paris Tuesday 2000 hrs**

It had been a busy two days, thought Gibbs. The first class seat felt good. As did the Jack sliding down his throat.

Getting his vacation time from Vance on Monday had proved surprisingly easy. There had been a raised eyebrow at the two weeks, but Vance had signed off.

Getting out from under his team had been more difficult. He finally had to call a team meeting, a 'campfire', if you will. In Abby's lab. He'd told them he was going to see Mike Franks, fish, do some repairs on Mike's house, and be back in two weeks. End of story. Get back to work.

They had all looked at him like he had grown a second head.

As Gibbs got on the elevator, DiNozzo slid between the closing doors. As the car started to move. Gibbs stared straight ahead, silent. Half way up, Tony flipped the stop switch.

Gibbs slowly turned his head.

"Something, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs mildly.

Any other time Tony would have been warned by the mild tone that he was close to having his head separated from his body. Not today.

"I want to go, Boss. I know you're going after Ziva."

Gibbs turned the rest of his body to squarely face his Senior Field Agent.

"Special Agent Dinozzo, if I was even contemplating what you just said, it would be a violation of so many sections of the US Code, I'd be spending my retirement in Leavenworth. Do I look that stupid?"asked Gibbs.

"Ah….No, Boss?" said Tony.

"Right answer, DiNozzo" said Gibbs, reaching out to flip the switch that sent the elevator back on its journey.

After that, things had gone smoothly. Gibbs had driven directly to Reagan Nat'l. He caught an Aero Mexico flight to Mexico City, changed planes and was being picked up by Mike Franks in Baja by early afternoon.

As they'd driven away from the airport, Mike looked at his friend.

"Care to tell me what's really going on Probie?" He asked.

"No," said Gibbs "But I'm going to anyway."

After hearing the whole story, Mike fixed Gibbs with "the Look".

"Don't say it Boss"

"Okay" said Mike "But you watch your ass, Jethro".

Gibbs smiled at the memory, finished his drink and reclined his seat.

As he drifted off to sleep he hoped that he'd really be able to get some fishing in when this was over.

**Room 1307 Novotel Paris Charles De Gaulle, Wednesday, 1600 hrs**

Gibbs & Co. were awaiting the arrival of Matt Brown for their briefing. No one had encountered any problems reaching Paris. The team was able to secure adjoining rooms.

There was a knock. "Doc" Valle being closest rose and looked through the peephole. The face looking back matched the picture Gibbs had shown everyone.

Doc unlocked and opened the door.

Matt Brown walked in, laptop case slung over his shoulder.

Gibbs rose and shook Brown's hand.

"Been a long time, Sergeant Major" he said

"Yes it has" said Brown, eyeballing the rest of the group.

Gibbs made the introductions.

When Gibbs got to Peters, Brown's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Have we met?"

"Naples" said Peters.

Brown's eyes widened in recognition.

"The wiseass SEAL".

"At ease, Pete" said Crawford as Peters started to stand.

"Aye, Aye, Chief." Peters sank back into his chair, smiling faintly

"Briefing, Sgt Major?" said Gibbs.

"Right" said Brown setting up his laptop and plugging it into the room's 21 inch plasma TV.

"First things first" said Brown. "Per your request, the group's compensation was deposited in an account at the Banc du Credit in Nevis. Here's the pass code."

Brown handed Gibbs a slip of paper. Gibbs handed it off to Peters.

Crawford and Gibbs wouldn't be getting paid, but it had to look like it. Their pay would be split between Peters and Valle.

"OK," said Brown. " Weapons and equipment. I was able to get everything you wanted except the RPD. The MP5SD's are from a stolen arms shipment, the AKM's with the under barrel grenade launchers are Syrian Army surplus, the silenced .45's are Spanish, the personal radios are S. Korean, NVG's are Israeli, the desert cammies, web gear and boots are Cuban. All the medical supplies are S. African. The collapsible stretcher is French. There's plenty of ammo for all the weapons. I assume the AKM's are insurance in case things get loud?"

Crawford nodded in the affirmative.

Brown hit a key on his laptop.

"Target". An overhead view of a collection of huts of various sizes came on the screen. There was a substantial looking building in the upper left corner of the picture. Brown circled it with a laser pointer.

"That's where the Al Qaeda cell is staying. One story, solid block construction. Flat roof. One door. **T** type hallway. The long portion has a storeroom, an office, bunkroom, kitchen and chow hall. The short portion has three rooms. One at the junction and one in each of the arms. Ms. David is in the right arm room.

"You've got someone in the village." said Gibbs. It was a statement, not a question.

"That's correct" said Brown. "My unit is tasked with infiltrating the pirate organizations and passing on any Intel to the Combined Joint Task Force-Horn of Africa. The info on this particular enclave hasn't been disseminated yet." There were snorts all around the room.

Brown hit another key. The view widened.

"This enclave is 60 miles North & East of Eyl. It's affiliated with the Marka Group. There are approximately 60 to 70 effectives. They are armed with AK 47's and RPG-7's Also there are two "technicals" mounting 12.7 mm HMG's. Camp followers number another 80 or so. AQ's manpower is between 10 and 15. They've been rotating in and out."

"The insertion will take place here" said Brown, using his pointer again. "You'll be landed by RHIB."

"My guy will drive the boat and provide security for it while you're gone. It's a five mile walk from the beach to the villie. There's no soft sand, its hard pack all the way, with lots of low scrub. There's a small rise behind the AQ house, between these shacks. More laser pointing.

"I have hard copies of all the visuals and maps will be available at the jump off point."

"Now" said Brown "on to the juicy."

He hit a key and a head and shoulder picture of an Arab male with a mustache and scruffy beard appeared.

"Qadir ibn Hassan, number four on the depth chart of AQ/Horn of Africa. Bring him out and my people's happiness will know no bounds."

"And if not?" asked Gibbs.

"Less happy, but not sore." said Brown.

There followed a discussion of the voyage to the insertion point. This would be accomplished by dhow sailing from the Port of Djibouti. It was approximately a two day sail.

"That's all I have" said Brown.

"There's an Air France flight leaving tonight at 2320 hrs for Djibouti. Upon arrival head for the taxi stand. A van with one of my guys will be there. Here's his picture. He'll bring you to a warehouse in the Port. You'll pick up your gear and head out. I'll see you there."

As Brown packed up, he snapped his fingers.

"The airport is also the HQ of the Joint Task Force. Try and keep a low profile."

'Pete' Peters put on a "Who me?" look. Even Brown laughed.

"See you in Djibouti."

**Off the Beach, 60 miles NE of Eyl, Somalia, Saturday 0130 hrs**

The flight to Djibouti and linkup at the warehouse had gone smoothly. Weapons were chosen and cleaned. Satellite photos were studied. A route from the beach to the target area was decided upon. The dhow was loaded and Gibbs & Co shoved off with Matt brown along.

The two day voyage was used to good effect. All weapons were test fired and zeroed. The rest of the gear was distributed across the group. The MP5's would be the primary weapons on the raid. The AK's would be strapped to backs. Used only if they were discovered. On the trip Crawford had the hardest job, keeping Peters and Brown apart.

But that was all over now. It was show time.

Brown's guy ran the RHIB up onto the beach. The four raiders tumbled out of the boat formed a skirmish line and moved up the beach. It was clear. Gibbs and Valle helped the boat driver haul the RHIB further up the beach.

After the boat was secure, the team left in an arrow formation. Peters was on point with Gibbs on the left and Valle on the right. Billy Crawford was in the center handling the compass and pace count.

The trip to the village went quickly. The temperature was in the high 70's, but dry. Gibbs was feeling loose.

The team held short of the rise. Peters went forward to make sure it was clear.

"Come up" came over Gibbs' earpiece.

The three men joined on Pete. They settled on the sand.

It was 0335 hrs.

At 0400 they would hit the house.

**A/N:** You may wonder why I went into such depth about the equipment. This is a "sterile" op. Nothing visible points to US involvement. Of course if one of our hero's is killed and his body fingerprinted and photographed the identity comes out. But it can be explained away. Peters or Valle would be painted as mercenaries. Gibbs or Crawford as rouges bent on saving a colleague. Plausible deniability.


	3. Extraction

**Disclaimer: Even though I don't own 'em, I really do love playin' with 'em**

**Author's Note: **I enjoyed writing this chapter the most. No technical notes for this one. You know everything you need to by now. There will be one section that I'm sure some people may find a little disconcerting. I apologize in advance. But I would do the same thing. In a heartbeat.

"On Wrongs, swift vengeance awaits- **Alexander Pope**

"Payback is a Medevac"- **William "Billy Goat" Crawford**

**The rise behind the AQ house, Saturday 0355 hrs**

Gibbs watched the AQ fighter circle the house through his NVG's. He knew he was watching a dead man walking. "Pete" Peters had left the rise fifteen minutes earlier to get into position to take out the sentry.

Peters was lying covered in sand near the right corner, rear of the house. The sentry would be coming right at Pete. A head on shot.

As the sentry reached the middle of the rear wall there was a sound like a small cough. It probably wasn't audible 10 feet away. The sentry dropped.

"Tango down" came laconically over Gibbs' earpiece. "Move up."

Crawford, Gibbs and Valle joined on Peters.

"Stack" said Crawford, "Pete, lead out."

Peters took the point, followed by Crawford, Gibbs and Valle. They ghosted along the rear wall. Pete stopped at the left corner. He knelt and took a quick peek around the corner.

"Clear"

"Continue" said Crawford.

As they moved along the short wall, Crawford watched the left front, Gibbs watched left, and Doc kept an eye toward the rear.

Upon reaching the final corner the entire team took a knee.

Crawford studied what he could see of the pirate village. The nearest shacks were all quiet. Farther out he heard quiet music. Time to move.

Billy tapped Pete's shoulder. Peters took a quick peek around the corner.

"Clear"

"Continue" said Billy.

Peters went around the corner. The stack eased down to the front door. They were on the hinge side.

Pete looked closer. Hinges inside. The door opened in.

"Switch" said Crawford.

Peters glided across the door and took up his position by the knob.

Each team member in turn crossed the door until Doc reached his tail end spot and said "Ready."

Crawford took a deep breath and let ¾ of it out.

"Enter"

Peters reached out and gently tried the knob. It turned. The door was unlocked.

Crouching, Pete turned the knob fully, and lifting some, eased the door open. Crawford standing fully erect covered Pete over his shoulder.

The stack moved into the hallway.

As Doc Valle passed into the hallway, he closed the door and shoved a shim in the gap between the door and the floor. The door was now wedged shut.

The stack continued down the hall. Twenty feet away a figure came around the corner.

Peters' MP5SD coughed twice. The terrorist dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Tango down"

The stack moved to the body.

"Check him for a key ring, Pete." said Billy.

Peters ran his hands over the body.

"Got it" Peters handed Crawford a ring of keys.

"Gibbs, Doc, with me." said Billy. "Pete, hold here."

The three men moved to the door in the corridor wall. Crawford handed Gibbs the key ring.

"Let's get her out, Jeth."

Gibbs, his heart hammering in his chest, tried several keys before the padlock opened. He swung the door open.

The smell of blood and human waste hit him like a blow.

"Christ"

As the three moved into the cell Doc Valle cracked several high intensity lite sticks.

Huddled in the far corner of the cell, curled in the fetal position was Ziva David.

"_Madre de Dios_" said Doc Valle.

The entire left side of Ziva's face was swollen to twice its normal size. Her left arm was lying at an unnatural angle. Her hair was hacked short and missing in several spots. Her clothing was practically nonexistent. Ziva's arms and legs bore numerous half healed and fresh burns and cuts.

Gibbs knelt by her head.

"Ziva, Ziva can you hear me?"

"Gibbs, is that really you?" Ziva's voice sounded paper thin.

"Who else were you expecting David?"

"Thank God, It is you" Ziva started to cry.

Gibbs heart gave a lurch. Ziva _never_ cried.

"They hurt me, Jethro" said Ziva in a cracked, little girl's voice.

Behind Gibbs, Billy Goat Crawford's face turned stony. His sky blue eyes hardened.

"Gibbs stay here and help Doc. Pete and I will clear the rest of the house."

As Billy exited the cell, he motioned to Peters.

"Pete, with me."

When he drew even with the dead terrorist he gave the body a vicious kick to the head.

Peters and Crawford cleared the other cells. No occupants.

As they approached the first door of the long hallway, Peters snuck a look at his old swim buddy.

"_A lot of people are going to die soon, and very unpleasantly "_ thought Peters.

The first door led to the mess hall/kitchen. They were empty.

The second was the armory. They would rig that to blow on the way out.

The third door was the bunkroom. Crawford made a hand sign that Peters was to cover the door & hallway.

There were eight terrorists sleeping in the bunkroom. Billy let his MP5SD hang from its sling. He drew his suppressed .45 and went methodically down the line of bunks shooting each terrorist once in the head. When he reached the last bunk, he dropped the clip and reloaded.

"Let's find that bastard, Hassan" said Billy.

"With ya, Chief" said Peters.

The fourth door led to an office. There was a PC, a shitload of CD-ROM's,floppy disks and VHS tapes. A door led to what looked like a bedroom. Hassan's bedroom.

Hassan was sleeping soundly, a Berretta on the night stand next to the bed.

Crawford ghosted up to the bed. Drew his .45. He raised it, and then lowered it.

"_Nah, I want him to see it coming._"

Billy clamped his hand over Hassan's mouth. Hassan's eyes flew open.

"_Good Morning, whoreson, defiler of women"_ said Billy in Arabic. "_I hope you slept well."_

Hassan's eyes tried to bug out of his head. Billy removed his hand. Hassan's mouth opened.

"_Don't bother yelling, they're all dead._"

Hassan darted a look at the Berretta.

"Go ahead," said Billy conversationally, switching back to English. "Reach for it."

Hassan shook his head.

"I have valuable information!" said Hassan, also in English.

Growing tired of the game, Billy said " I don't care." raised the .45 and shot Hassan in the face.

"Let's get the hell outta here, Pete."

When they got back to the cell, Billy raised a hand stopping Peters.

"Coming in, Jethro."

"Come ahead" said Gibbs.

Crawford and Peters entered the cell, noting that Ziva was now on the stretcher, wrapped in a space blanket. Her right arm was sticking out. There was an IV in. She was clutching Gibbs' left hand with her right.

"Can we leave, Doc?" asked Billy.

"Si'", said Doc Valle. I've done all I can do here. She's sleeping now. I gave her something that should keep her out 'til we're clear."

" 'Kay" said Billy. "Pete, rig the armory to blow. I'll grab the computer shit. Doc, you and Gibbs strap up and carry the stretcher.

"Hassan?" asked Gibbs.

"Not coming" said Crawford.

Gibbs smiled faintly, but said nothing. He'd seen the look on Billy's face as he left the cell.

Fifteen minutes later they were ready to go. The armory was rigged and all "the computer shit" was gathered up. Ziva David was slung between Gibbs and Doc. This way their hands would be free to handle their weapons.

"Okay" said Crawford "Pete will be on point, I'll be next. We stay quiet. If the shit hits the fan, Pete and I will try and lead the pursuit off, while you guys head for the boat. Clear?"

Nods all around.

"Lead out, Peters"

Pete removed the shim, opened the door and looked out.

"Clear"

"Continue" said Crawford.

The team left the house, Doc closing the door as he passed through. Peters led the team towards the rise.

As they passed near a shack, a man in his 70's stepped out. He was gray bearded, wearing a red t-shirt and cut off cammie shorts. There was a pistol belted around his waist.

The man froze.

Pete making a split second decision said "Si puo parlare italiano?"

"Certo" said the man.

By now the rest of the team had the old man under the gun.

"_This is none of your affair. There is no profit in it_" said Pete in Italian.

"_But you have weapons and a woman_" said the man, looking at the stretcher.

"_The weapons hold nothing but death and we take the woman home_" said Peters.

"_She is from the storehouse?_" asked the old man.

"_Yes_"

"_She is fierce"_ said the man "_The Arabs could not break her. She laughed at them. They were very upset."_

"_As I said we are taking her home_" said Pete.

"_Then go in peace. A woman that fierce deserves the chance to bear warrior sons._" The man turned back into his home and shut the door.

The team double timed it into the desert. By switching off on the stretcher every 20 minutes they made it back to the beach by dawn.

The trip back to the dhow was short.

The lack of ibn Hassan made the two day trip back to Djibouti seem a lot longer.

**A/N**: The "Payback is a Medevac" line has been around the military since Vietnam. I could not find anyone to attribute it too. So I used Billy. I thought under the circumstances it was appropriate.


	4. After Action Review

**Disclaimer: You know it, I know it, so I won't say it.**

**Author's Note:** Nothing occurs in a vacuum. This story is no exception. I have some people to thank. The biggest goes to **elflordsmistress**, who read every chapter, gave great advice and didn't get mad when I ignored it. Thanks a bunch elm. Next up is **M E Wofford**, who in her own inimitable style, _encouraged _me to finish this story so I could get back to writing Mike Franks stories! There are some in the pipeline M E. Finally to **finlaure, BAMACRUSH, zivaslave, ninjagirl,lost-in-fanfic and reader, **thanks for your reviews. Hope you like this final chapter as much as the first three.

**Dedication:** This entire story is dedicated to the 23 NYPD & 37 PAPD officers who died on 9/11/01, so others might live. NEVER FORGET.

Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it- **Tori Amos**

**Djibouti-Ambouli International, General Aviation Area, Tuesday 1700 Hrs.**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs and William "Billy Goat" Crawford stood side by side watching the Gulfstream G550 taxi away from the flight line.

Aboard the jet were Ziva David, a doctor, a nurse, Shawn "Pete" Peters, and Diego "Doc" Valle.

Bill Danforth had come through in spades. Not only did he send the jet, but a doctor and nurse. Both specializing in the care and treatment of torture victims.

The jets destination?

Somewhere USA. Gibbs didn't know the location of the clinic Danforth had used for his son's transplant. During the case he hadn't asked. Danforth hadn't told. Now if _he _was asked, Gibbs could truthfully say he had no idea where Ziva David was.

"So", said Crawford "How pissed off is 'Matt the Knife'?"

"I don't think I'll be gettin' a Christmas card this year." Gibbs said.

Crawford chuckled.

"He's got no kick. We brought back enough intel to keep his analysts busy for a year."

"I know, Goat, but his bosses wanted a live body to play with."

"People in Hell want ice water."

Gibbs raised his hands palms out.

"No argument from me. I'm glad the bastards dead too."

"All right then." said Crawford "I guess you won't be getting help from him again though. Sorry."

"He's not the only fish in my ocean. I'll just put his name at the bottom of my list. Besides once he cools off a little, he'll come around."

During their conversation, the Gulfstream had reached takeoff position and started rolling. As it lifted off, both men breathed a sigh of relief.

Mission accomplished.

"So, what's the rest of the plan?" asked Billy.

"Since Danforth sent a doctor, Diego is going to get off at the first refueling stop. Peters is staying as long as he feels he's needed."

Crawford raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know. It seems he's become attached" said Gibbs.

It was true. On the two day trip back to Djibouti, when it wasn't Gibbs sitting with Ziva it was 'Pete' Peters. Pete had even managed to get Ziva to laugh. Something even Gibbs had been unable to do.

" 'Kay, Gibbs, I'm gonna go do some duty free shopping before my flight. If I don't bring Mary Ellen

back something, she'll kill me."

"Thank you, Billy." said Gibbs, sticking out his hand. The two men shook warmly.

"Easy day, Jeth"

As the Billy Goat walked away he started whistling. He was almost out of earshot before Gibbs recognized the tune.

It was "the Minstrel Boy."

**Carlos' Cantina, Baja, Mexico Saturday 1720 hrs.**

Happy Hour was in full swing.

Gibbs and Mike Franks sat side by side at the bar drinking Dos Equis beer.

"What time is your flight tomorrow, Probie?"

"Two PM, Mike" said Gibbs "Plenty of time for you to recover from what you're going to do to yourself tonight."

"Hell, I'm entitled. I put up with you for the last couple of days"

"Real hardship, Boss, we fished and drank beer."

"That's hard work" said Mike, lighting a cigarette.

Jose the bartender came over with the phone.

"You have a _telefono_ call, Senor Gibbs."

Franks raised an eyebrow. Gibbs shrugged a 'got me' shrug.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"I hope you're enjoying your time off Agent Gibbs." said the Secretary of the Navy.

Gibbs sat up like he'd been booted in the ass.

"Yes Sir, beer's cold, sun's warm and the fishing's been great."

"Good to hear. I'm calling because I have some news that I'm sure you'd be interested in." said SecNav.

"Sir?…"

It seems Ms. David had been captured by terrorists while on a mission. However it appears she has escaped."

"That is interesting news, Sir. I hadn't realized she'd been captured. Not surprised she escaped, she's very resourceful."

"Well it appears she had help escaping" said SecNav.

"Mossad?" asked Gibbs.

"No, we're not entirely sure who helped. Just that one of them spoke Italian."

'_Fuckin' pirate' _thought Gibbs _'Pete shoulda killed him.'_

"Italian, Sir?" Said Gibbs aloud.

"Yes. After her rescue Ms. David seems to have dropped off the face of the earth."

"You haven't heard from her have you Agent Gibbs?"

"No Sir" said Gibbs truthfully.

"Well when you get back to DC, I'd like to have a talk. Informally."

"My door is always unlocked, Sir"

"Yes, it is. Good Evening, Gibbs."

The line went dead.

"Think he knows, Probie?" asked Franks after Gibbs recounted SecNav's end of the conversation.

"No, but he suspects, I'm sure."

"What are you going to do?" asked Mike.

"Go back to work. Try not to strangle my Director. He and Daddy David have a lot to answer for. I hope I can find out enough to jack 'em both up."

Mike could see his Probie getting worked up. Time to change gears.

"Have you heard from Peters?"

"Yeah, yesterday. He said the docs at the clinic think Ziva could be discharged in about three weeks.

"What then, Jethro?"

"Got me, Mike. That will be up to her"

On the dhow Gibbs had told Ziva if she wanted to stay with NCIS, he would call in whatever markers it would take to make that happen.

She had not given him an answer.

"Well, Probie, if all else fails we could just get drunk."

Gibbs raised his beer bottle in salute.

"Sounds like a plan, Boss."

**A/N:** That's my take on how Ziva gets rescued. The team wouldn't go and get her. They don't have the skill set. SEALS or Marine Recon would probably do the actual assault. The team would come in after the area was secure. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did please hit that green button below.


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